They don't really tell you much when you get here. I doubt they'd have a list of everyone and every single person from their home and...that would be a lot of work.
[He doesn't shove his hands back into his pockets just yet, wanting to make it extremely obvious that if she wants his jacket, he'll give it to her. There's no move to burrow into, just him crossing his legs and resting his hands over his knees, a cheap watch ticking away the time.]
I don't think he could be here very long with me here, too, and not make himself known. Somehow. There would be clues, for one thing. And for the other... [He's not sure how much to give away. He's not about to tell her about how he'd expect a Ripper murder to pop up if Lecter was around. He's not sure what she knows, if he told her anything. If he did anything other than—
—he's getting a headache again.] ...he has to have his fingers in all sorts of pies. He'd have to set himself up as some great, guiding figure. The thing about him, Abigail, is that he gets something out of it. He gets something out of people enjoying his company and wanting him to be around them. He puts himself in a good light, such a good light, which makes it harder to see him when he's playing in the dark. I can't really imagine he knows how to hide himself completely, because he gets too much out of being known for being so good instead of. [He has to stop. He can't just profile Lecter as their first conversation, because then he runs the risk of making her wonder or ask what she thought about her father, and if he can avoid more distress? That's what he'll aim for.] He'd probably be beside himself to hear us talking about him like this, so let's not. What house did they put you in?
no subject
[He doesn't shove his hands back into his pockets just yet, wanting to make it extremely obvious that if she wants his jacket, he'll give it to her. There's no move to burrow into, just him crossing his legs and resting his hands over his knees, a cheap watch ticking away the time.]
I don't think he could be here very long with me here, too, and not make himself known. Somehow. There would be clues, for one thing. And for the other... [He's not sure how much to give away. He's not about to tell her about how he'd expect a Ripper murder to pop up if Lecter was around. He's not sure what she knows, if he told her anything. If he did anything other than—
—he's getting a headache again.] ...he has to have his fingers in all sorts of pies. He'd have to set himself up as some great, guiding figure. The thing about him, Abigail, is that he gets something out of it. He gets something out of people enjoying his company and wanting him to be around them. He puts himself in a good light, such a good light, which makes it harder to see him when he's playing in the dark. I can't really imagine he knows how to hide himself completely, because he gets too much out of being known for being so good instead of. [He has to stop. He can't just profile Lecter as their first conversation, because then he runs the risk of making her wonder or ask what she thought about her father, and if he can avoid more distress? That's what he'll aim for.] He'd probably be beside himself to hear us talking about him like this, so let's not. What house did they put you in?